A Whole New Universe
by Scififan33
Summary: The war was meant to end with Riddle's death, they were meant to have peace...they were wrong. Harry once again sacrifices everything to save his world only to find Hell look a lot like a field. Or maybe the portal had been hit by his odd luck.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter or Jupiter Ascending_

 _If this looks familiar, using basically the same intro for Harry as in Throwing in a Wild Card._

 _NOW EDITED!_

 **Chapter 1**

After all these years he finally knew the truth he had begged for back in first year. Lying with his face pressed into the dusty carpet of the office where he had once thought he was learning the secrets of victory, Harry understood at last that he was not supposed to survive. His job was to walk calmly into Death's welcoming arms, a martyr for the cause. Along the way, he was to dispose of Voldemort's remaining links to life, so that when at last he flung himself across Voldemort's path, and did not raise a wand to defend himself, the end would be clean, and the job that ought to have been done in Godric's Hollow would be finished. Neither would live, neither could survive. He really despised Trelawney sometimes for ever opening her mouth. Scratch that, he despised her all of the time, drunken old bat. He didn't believe the prophecy, partially because she gave it but also it was far too vague. But his disbelief didn't matter, Dumbledore and Riddle had believed it and arranged his whole life around it. What was it called? Ah yes, a self-fulfilling prophecy and here he was stuck in the middle of one, his fate decided by the other players before he was even born.

He felt his heart pounding fiercely in his chest. How strange that in his dread of death, it pumped all the harder, valiantly keeping him alive. But it would have to stop, and soon. Its beats were numbered. How many would there be time for, as he rose and walked through the castle for the last time, out into the grounds and into the forest?

Horror washed over him as he lay on the floor, with that funeral drum hammering inside him. Would it hurt to die? All those times he had thought that it was about to happen and had escaped, he had never really thought of the thing itself, his will to live had always been so much stronger than his fear of death. Yet it did not occur to him now to try to escape, to outrun Voldemort. It was over, he knew it, and all that was left was the thing itself: dying. If his death could save the others, then there was no choice.

If he could only have died when he had left Privet Drive for the last time! If he could only have died like Hedwig, so quickly he would not have known it had happened! Or if he could have launched himself in front of a wand to save someone he loved...maybe it could have been him to die, not Sirius, not Cedric… He envied even his parents' deaths now. This cold-blooded walk to his own destruction would require a different kind of bravery. He felt his fingers trembling slightly and tried to control them, although no one could see him; the portraits on the walls were all empty.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he sat up, and as he did so he felt more alive and more aware of his own living body than ever before. Why had he never appreciated what a miracle he was, brain and nerve and bounding heart? It would all be gone... or at least, he would be gone from it. His breath came slow and deep, and his mouth and throat were completely dry, but so were his eyes. He had rarely cried, his Aunt and Uncle didn't approve so he had trained himself not to, no matter the pain. He could feel his magic, warm inside him and he took a moment to bask in it.

Dumbledore's betrayal was almost nothing. Of course, there had been a bigger plan: Harry had simply been too foolish to see it, he realized that now. He had never questioned his own assumption that Dumbledore wanted him alive. Now he saw that his life span had always been determined by how long it took to eliminate all the Horcruxes. Dumbledore had passed the job of destroying them to him, and obediently he had continued to chip away at the bonds tying not only Voldemort, but himself, to life! How neat, how elegant, not to waste any more lives, but to give the dangerous task to the boy who had already been marked for slaughter, and whose death would not be a calamity, but another blow against Voldemort. And in that moment, he hated Dumbledore more than he hated Voldemort, he had been raised as a lamb to the slaughter. Had the man even tried to find another way? Or had he just taken the easy way out by planning his death?

And Dumbledore had known that Harry would not duck out, that he would keep going to the end, even though it was his end, because he had taken trouble to get to know him, hadn't he? Dumbledore knew, as Voldemort knew, that Harry would not let anyone else die for him now that he had discovered it was in his power to stop it. The images of Fred, Remus, and Tonks lying dead in the Great Hall forced their way back into his mind's eye, and for a moment he could hardly breathe. Death was impatient...

But Dumbledore had overestimated him. He had failed, the snake survived. One Horcrux remained to bind Voldemort to the earth. True, that would mean an easier job for somebody. He wondered who would do it... Ron and Hermione would know what needed to be done, of course... That would have been why Dumbledore wanted him to confide in two others... so that if he fulfilled his true destiny a little early, they could carry on...

I must die. It must end. He wanted to scream in rage at the Universe, at Fate or God…it wasn't fair, he hadn't asked for this. Why did it have to be him? He was only seventeen…he hadn't really gotten to live yet, why did it have to be him? It should have been Dumbledore, this was his mess, his war. It was his fault the prophecy ever needed to be given, he could have stopped Tom decades ago, instead he had meddled, sent other to die while tying their hands in the fight with all his talk of second chances. Why should Death Eaters get a second chance when all those they killed never would?

Ron and Hermione seemed a long way away, he felt as though he had parted from them long ago. There would be no good-byes and no explanations, he was determined of that. This was a journey they could not take together, and the attempts they would make to stop him would waste valuable time. And he didn't want to see Hermione cry when nothing could stop this. He looked down at the battered gold watch he had received on his seventeenth birthday. Nearly half of the hour allotted by Voldemort for his surrender had elapsed.

He stood up. His heart was leaping against his ribs like a frantic bird. Perhaps it knew it had little time left, perhaps it was determined to fulfil a lifetime's beats before the end. He did not look back as he closed the office door. He did not want to see that one time comforting face again, he might try to destroy the portrait if he did.

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A fire burned in the middle of the clearing, and its flickering light fell over a crowd of completely silent, watchful Death Eaters. Some of them were still masked and hooded; others showed their faces. Two giants sat on the outskirts of the group, casting massive shadows over the scene, their faces cruel, rough-hewn like rock. Harry saw Fenrir, skulking, chewing his long nails; the great blond Rowle was dabbing at his bleeding lip. He saw Lucius Malfoy, who looked defeated and terrified, and Narcissa, whose eyes were sunken and full of apprehension. Not so haughty now, where they? Nothing like the proud couple he'd seen at the World Cup what felt like several lifetimes ago. Good, for all the pain they had cause they deserved to have some returned to them.

Every eye was fixed upon Voldemort, who stood with his head bowed, and his white hands folded over the Elder Wand in front of him. He might have been praying, or else counting silently in his mind, and Harry, standing still on the edge of the scene, though absurdly of a child counting in a game of hide-and-seek. Behind his head, still swirling and coiling, the great snake Nagini floated in her glittering, charmed cage, like a monstrous halo. Of course, he was keeping her safe, keeping her close, not that he knew about the destruction of all his other Horcruxes. No, he only knew about the cup and diary so far.

When Dolohov and Yaxley re-joined the circle, Voldemort looked up. "No sign of him, my Lord," said Dolohov.

Voldemort's expression did not change. The red eyes seemed to burn in the firelight. Slowly he drew the Elder Wand between his long fingers.

"My Lord." Bellatrix sat closest to Voldemort, dishevelled, her face a little bloody but otherwise unharmed.

Voldemort raised his hand to silence her, and she did not speak another word, but eyed him in worshipful fascination, which made Harry want to gag, did she really find the bald no-nose look attractive? "I thought he would come," said Voldemort in his high, clear voice, his eyes on the leaping flames. "I expected him to come." Nobody spoke. They seemed as scared as Harry, whose heart was now throwing itself against his ribs as though determined to escape the body he was about to cast aside. His hands were sweating as he pulled off the Invisibility Cloak and stuffed it beneath his robes, with his wand. He did not want to be tempted to fight. "I was, it seems... mistaken," said Voldemort.

"You weren't." Harry said it as loudly as he could, with all the force he could muster: He did not want to sound afraid. The Resurrection Stone slipped from between his numb fingers, and out of the corner of his eyes he saw his parents, Sirius, and Remus vanish as he stepped forward into the firelight. At that moment, he felt that nobody mattered but Voldemort. It was just the two of them.

The illusion was gone as soon as it had come. The giants roared as the Death Eaters rose together, and there were many cries, gasps, even laughter. Voldemort had frozen where he stood, but his red eyes had found Harry, and he stared as Harry moved toward him, with nothing but the fire between them.

Then a voice yelled, "HARRY! NO!" Hagrid was bound and trussed, tied to a tree nearby. His massive body shook the branches overhead as he struggled, desperate. "NO! NO! HARRY, WHAT'RE YEH DOING?"

"QUIET!" shouted Rowle, and with a flick of his wand, Hagrid was silenced.

Bellatrix, who had leapt to her feet, was looking eagerly from Voldemort to Harry, her breast heaving. The only things that moved were the flames and the snake, coiling and uncoiling in the glittering cage behind Voldemort's head.

Harry could feel his wand against his chest, but he made no attempt to draw it. He knew that the snake was too well protected, knew that if he managed to point the wand at Nagini, fifty curses would hit him first. And still, Voldemort and Harry looked at each other, and now Voldemort tilted his head a little to the side, considering the boy standing before him, and a singularly mirthless smile curled the lipless mouth.

"Harry Potter," he said very softly. His voice might have been part of the spitting fire. "The Boy Who Lived."

None of the Death Eaters moved. They were waiting, everything was waiting. Hagrid was struggling, and Bellatrix was panting, and Harry thought inexplicably of Ginny, and her blazing look, and the feel of her lips on his. Voldemort had raised his wand. His head was still tilted to one side, like a curious child, wondering what would happen if he proceeded. Harry looked back into the red eyes, and wanted it to happen now, quickly, while he could still stand, before he lost control, before he betrayed fear, he would not shame his parents or any of the others by letting them know how scared he was to die.

He saw the mouth move and a flash of green light, and everything was gone.

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Harry became conscious that he was naked. He lay in a bright mist, though it was not like mist he had ever experienced before. His surroundings were not hidden by cloudy vapour; rather the cloudy vapour had not yet formed into surroundings. The floor on which he lay seemed to be white, neither warm nor cold, but simply there, a flat, blank something on which to be. Was this death? He sat up. His body appeared unscathed. He touched his face. He was not wearing glasses anymore.

Then a noise reached him through the unformed nothingness that surrounded him, the small soft thumping's of something that flapped, flailed, and struggled. It was a pitiful noise, yet also slightly indecent. He had the uncomfortable feeling that he was eavesdropping on something furtive, shameful.

For the first time, he wished he were clothed. Barely had the wish formed in his head than robes appeared a short distance away. He took them and pulled them on. They were soft, clean, and warm. It was extraordinary how they had appeared just like that, the moment he had wanted them...

Harry turned slowly on the spot, and his surroundings seemed to invent themselves before his eyes. A wide-open space, bright and clean, a hall larger by far than the Great Hall, with that clear domed glass ceiling. It was quite empty. He was the only person there, except for… He recoiled. He had spotted the thing that was making the noises. It had the form of a small, naked child, curled on the ground, its skin raw and rough, flayed-looking, and it lay shuddering under a seat where it had been left, unwanted, stuffed out of sight, struggling for breath. He was afraid of it. Small and fragile and wounded though it was, he did not want to approach it. Nevertheless, he drew slowly nearer, ready to jump back at any moment. Soon he stood near enough to touch it, yet he could not bring himself to do it. He felt like a coward. He ought to comfort it, but it repulsed him.

"You cannot help." He spun around. Albus Dumbledore was walking toward him, sprightly and upright, wearing sweeping robes of midnight blue. "Harry." He spread his arms wide, and his hands were both whole and white and undamaged. "You wonderful boy. You brave, brave man. Let us walk."

Stunned, Harry followed on autopilot as Dumbledore strode away from where the flayed child lay whimpering, leading him to two seats that Harry had not previously noticed, set some distance away under that high, sparkling ceiling. Dumbledore sat down in one of them, and Harry fell into the other, staring at his old headmaster's face. Dumbledore's long silver hair and beard, the piercingly blue eyes behind half-moon spectacles, the crooked nose: Everything was as he had remembered it. And yet... "But you're dead," said Harry.

"Oh yes," said Dumbledore matter-of-factly.

"Then... I'm dead too?"

"Ah," said Dumbledore, smiling still more broadly. "That is the question, isn't it? On the whole, dear boy, I think not." They looked at each other, the old man still beaming.

"Not?" repeated Harry.

"Not," said Dumbledore.

"But..." Harry raised his hand instinctively toward the lightning scar. It did not seem to be there. "But I should have died I didn't defend myself! I meant to let him kill me!"

"And that," said Dumbledore, "will, I think, have made all the difference." Happiness seemed to radiate from Dumbledore like light; like fire: Harry had never seen the man so utterly, so palpably content.

"Explain," Harry demanded.

"But you already know," said Dumbledore, he twiddled his thumbs together.

"I let him kill me," said Harry. "Didn't I?"

"You did," said Dumbledore, nodding. "Go on!"

"So, the part of his soul that was in me is gone."

"Oh yes!" said Dumbledore. "Yes, he destroyed it. Your soul is whole, and completely your own, Harry."

Okay so that was a major relief, he'd felt unclean since learning just what his scar held. "But then..." Harry trembled over his shoulder to where the small, maimed creature trembled under the chair. "What is that, Professor?"

"Something that is beyond either of our help," said Dumbledore.

"But if Voldemort used the Killing Curse," Harry started again, "and nobody died for me this time how can I be alive?"

"I think you know," said Dumbledore. "Think back. Remember what he did, in his ignorance, in his greed and his cruelty."

Harry thought. He let his gaze drift over his surroundings. If it was indeed a palace in which they sat, it was an odd one, with chairs set in little rows and bits of railing here and there, and still, he and Dumbledore and the stunted creatures under the chair were the only beings there. Then the answer rose to his lips easily, without effort. "He took my blood," said Harry.

"Precisely!" said Dumbledore. "He took your blood and rebuilt his living body with it! Your blood in his veins, Harry, Lily's protection inside both of you! He tethered you to life while he lives!"

"I live... while he lives? But I thought... I thought it was the other way around! I thought we both had to die? Or is it the same thing?" He was distracted by the whimpering and thumping of the agonized creature behind them and glanced back at it yet again. "Are you sure we can't do anything?"

"There is no help possible."

"Then explain... more," said Harry, and Dumbledore smiled.

"You were the seventh Horcrux, Harry, the Horcrux he never meant to make. He had rendered his soul so unstable that it broke apart when he committed those acts of unspeakable evil, the murder of your parents, the attempted killing of a child. But what escaped from that room was even less than he knew. He left more than his body behind. He left part of himself latched to you, the would-be victim who had survived. And his knowledge remained woefully incomplete, Harry! That which Voldemort does not value, he takes no trouble to comprehend. Of house-elves and children's tales, of love, loyalty, and innocence, Voldemort knows and understands nothing. Nothing. That they all have a power beyond his own, a power beyond the reach of any magic, is a truth he has never grasped." Dumbledore paused to make sure he was following. "He took your blood believing it would strengthen him. He took into his body a tiny part of the enchantment your mother laid upon you when she died for you. His body keeps her sacrifice alive, and while that enchantment survives, so do you and so does Voldemort's one last hope for himself." Dumbledore smiled at Harry, and Harry stared at him.

"And you knew this? You knew all along?" Harry demanded, his anger at the man coming back.

"I guessed. But my guesses have usually been good," said Dumbledore happily, ignoring his anger, and they sat in silence for what seemed like a long time, while the creature behind them continued to whimper and tremble.

"There's more," said Harry. "There's more to it. Why did my wand break the wand he borrowed?"

"As to that, I cannot be sure."

"Have a guess, then," said Harry, and Dumbledore laughed.

"What you must understand, Harry, is that you and Lord Voldemort have journeyed together into realms of magic hitherto unknown and untested. But here is what I think happened, and it is unprecedented, and no wandmaker could, I think, ever have predicted or explained it to Voldemort. Without meaning to, as you now know, Lord Voldemort doubled the bond between you when he returned to a human form. A part of his soul was still attached to yours, and, thinking to strengthen himself, he took a part of your mother's sacrifice into himself. If he could only have understood the precise and terrible power of that sacrifice, he would not, perhaps, have dared to touch your blood... But then, if he had been able to understand, he could not be Lord Voldemort, and might never have murdered at all." Having ensured this two-fold connection, having wrapped your destinies together more securely than ever two wizards were joined in history, Voldemort proceeded to attack you with a wand that shared a core with yours. And now something very strange happened, as we know. The cores reacted in a way that Lord Voldemort, who never knew that your wand was a twin of his, had ever expected." Dumbledore glanced at the creature and then back at Harry. "He was more afraid than you were that night, Harry. You had accepted, even embraced, the possibility of death, something Lord Voldemort has never been able to do. Your courage won, your wand overpowered his. And in doing so, something happened between those wands, something that echoed the relationship between their masters. I believe that your wand imbibed some of the power and qualities of Voldemort's wand that night, which is to say that it contained a little of Voldemort himself. So your wand recognized him when he pursued you, recognized a man who was both kin and mortal enemy, and it regurgitated some of his own magic against him, magic much more powerful than anything Lucius's wand had ever performed. Your wand now contained the power of your enormous courage and of Voldemort's own deadly skill: What chance did that poor stick of Lucius Malfoy's stand?"

"But if my wand was so powerful, how come Hermione was able to break it?" asked Harry.

"My dear boy, its remarkable effects were directed only at Voldemort, who had tampered so ill-advisedly with the deepest laws of magic. Only toward him was that wand abnormally powerful. Otherwise it was a wand like any other... though a good one, I am sure," Dumbledore finished kindly.

Harry sat in thought for a long time, or perhaps seconds. It was very hard to be sure of things like time, here. "He killed me with your wand."

"He failed to kill you with my wand," Dumbledore corrected Harry. "I think we can agree that you are not dead though, of course," he added, as if fearing he had been discourteous, "I do not minimize your sufferings, which I am sure were severe."

"I feel great at the moment, though," said Harry, looking down at his clean, unblemished hands, feeling the anger churn at how dismissive Dumbledore was of everything he had gone through. "Where are we, exactly?"

"Well, I was going to ask you that," said Dumbledore, looking around. "Where would you say that we are?"

Until Dumbledore had asked, Harry had not known. Now, however, he found that he had an answer ready to give. "It looks," he said slowly, "like King's Cross station. Except a lo cleaner and empty, and there are no trains as far as I can see."

"King's Cross station!" Dumbledore was chuckling immoderately. "Good gracious, really?"

"Well, where do you think we are?" asked Harry, a little defensively.

"My dear boy, I have no idea. This is, as they say, your party."

Harry had no idea what this meant; Dumbledore was being infuriating. He glared at him, then remembered a much more pressing question than that of their current location. "The Deathly Hallows," he said, and he was glad to see that the words wiped the smile from Dumbledore's face.

"Ah, yes," he said, he even looked a little worried.

"Well?" For the first time since Harry had met Dumbledore, he looked less than an old man, much less. He looked fleetingly like a small boy caught in wrongdoing.

"Can you forgive me?" he said. "Can you forgive me for not trusting you? For not telling you? Harry, I only feared that you would fail as I had failed. I only dreaded that you would make my mistakes. I crave your pardon, Harry. I have known, for some time now, that you are the better man."

"What are you talking about?" asked Harry, startled by Dumbledore's tone, by the sudden tears in his eyes.

"The Hallows, the Hallows," murmured Dumbledore. "A desperate man's dream!"

"But they're real!"

"Real, and dangerous, and a lure for fools," said Dumbledore. "And I was such a fool. But you know, don't you? I have no secrets from you anymore. You know."

"What do I know?"

Dumbledore turned his whole body to face Harry, and tears still sparkled in the brilliantly blue eyes. "Master of Death, Harry, Master of Death! Was I better, ultimately, then Voldemort?"

His first instinct was to say, 'Of course you were', but he reigned it in to think. "You both have innocent blood on your hands." He finally said. "You said you suspected him at school, yet you did nothing. He should have been stopped long before that stupid prophecy was given. Sirius told me, you had them stunning Death Eaters instead of treating this as war and killing them. Were their second, fourth, tenth chance worth more than the innocents they slaughtered?"

"That is something I have had much time to reflect on recently. I too sought a way to conquer death, Harry." He admitted softly.

"Not the way he did," said Harry. He took a deep breath and sighed. "Hallows, not Horcruxes." At least he had been better than Tom in that.

"Hallows," murmured Dumbledore, "not Horcruxes. Precisely."

There was a pause. The creature behind them whimpered, but Harry no longer looked around. "Grindelwald was looking for them too?" he asked.

Dumbledore closed his eyes for a moment and nodded. "It was the thing, above all, that drew us together," he said quietly. "Two clever, arrogant boys with a shared obsession. He wanted to come to Godric's Hollow, as I am sure you have guessed, because of the grave of Ignotus Peverell. He wanted to explore the place the third brother had died."

"So, it's true?" asked Harry. "All of it? The Peverell brothers?"

"Were the three brothers of the tale," said Dumbledore, nodding. "Oh yes, I think so. Whether they met Death on a lonely road... I think it more likely that the Peverell brothers were simply gifted, dangerous wizards who succeeded in creating those powerful objects. The story of them being Death's own Hallows seems to me the sort of legend that might have sprung up around such creations. The Cloak, as you know now, travelled down through the ages, father to son, mother to daughter, right down to Ignotus' last living descendant, who was born, as Ignotus was, in the village of Godric's Hollow." Dumbledore smiled at Harry.

"Me?"

"You. You have guessed. I know, why the Cloak was in my possession on the night your parents died. James had showed it to me just a few days previously. It explained much of his undetected wrongdoing at school! I could hardly believe what I was seeing. I asked to borrow it, to examine it. I had long since given up my dream of uniting the Hallows, but I could not resist, could not help taking a closer look... It was a Cloak the likes of which I had never seen, immensely old, perfect in every respect... and then your father died, and I had two Hallows at last, all to myself!" His tone was unbearably bitter.

"The Cloak wouldn't have helped them survive, though," Harry said quickly. "Voldemort knew where my mum and dad were. The Cloak couldn't have made them curse-proof."

"True," sighed Dumbledore. "True."

Harry waited, but Dumbledore did not speak, so he prompted him. "So, you'd given up looking for the Hallows when you saw the Cloak?"

"Oh yes," said Dumbledore faintly. It seemed that he forced himself to meet Harry's eyes. "You know what happened. You know. You cannot despise me more than I despise myself."

"I wouldn't bet on that, I'm mad as hell at you. "

"You have the right," said Dumbledore. He drew a deep breath. "You know the secret of my sister's ill health, what those Muggles did, what she became. You know how my poor father sought revenge, and paid the price, died In Azkaban. You know how my mother gave up her own life to care for Ariana. I resented it, Harry." Dumbledore stated it baldly, coldly. He was looking now over the top of Harry's head, into the distance. "I was gifted, I was brilliant. I wanted to escape. I wanted to shine. I wanted glory. Do not misunderstand me," he said, and pain crossed the face so that he looked ancient again. "I loved them, I loved my parents, I loved my brother and my sister, but I was selfish, Harry, more selfish than you, who are a remarkably selfless person, could possibly imagine. So that, when my mother died, and I was left the responsibility of a damaged sister and a wayward brother, I returned to my village in anger and bitterness. Trapped and wasted, I thought! And then of course, he came..." Dumbledore looked directly into Harry's eyes again. "Grindelwald. You cannot imagine how his ideas caught me, Harry, inflamed me. Muggles forced into subservience. We wizards triumphant. Grindelwald and I, the glorious young leaders of the revolution. Oh, I had a few scruples. I assuaged my conscience with empty words. It would all be for the greater good, and any harm done would be repaid a hundredfold in benefits for wizards. Did I know, in my heart of hearts, what Gellert Grindelwald was? I think I did, but I closed my eyes. If the plans we were making came to fruition, all my dreams would come true. And at the heart of our schemes, the Deathly Hallows! How they fascinated him, how they fascinated both of us! The unbeatable wand, the weapon that would lead us to power! The Resurrection Stone to him, though I pretended not to know it, it meant an army of Inferi! To me, I confess, it meant the return of my parents, and the lifting of all responsibility from my shoulders. And the Cloak... somehow, we never discussed the Cloak much, Harry. Both of us could conceal ourselves well enough without the Cloak, the true magic of which, of course, is that it can be used to protect and shield others as well as its owner. I thought that, if we ever found it, it might be useful in hiding Ariana, but our interest in the Cloak was mainly that it completed the trio, for the legend said that the man who had united all three objects would then be truly master of death, which we took to mean 'invincible.'"

He paused then and Harry let him think, his own thoughts whirling. Just what did it mean to be Master of Death….and was he now it? He had the cloak, the wands allegiance…but he had dropped the stone…after technically having all three.

"Invincible masters of death, Grindelwald and Dumbledore! Two months of insanity, of cruel dreams, and neglect of the only two members of my family left to me. And then... you know what happened. Reality returned in the form of my rough, unlettered, and infinitely more admirable brother. I did not want to hear the truths he shouted at me. I did not want to hear that I could not set forth and seek Hallows with a fragile and unstable sister in tow. The argument became a fight. Grindelwald lost control. That which I had always sensed in him, though I pretended not to, now sprang into terrible being. And Ariana... after all my mother's care and caution... lay dead upon the floor." Dumbledore gave a little gasp and began to cry in earnest. Harry remained silent and still, honestly a bit disgusted that the man had once considered such things. He'd always been accused of forgiving too easily and yet now his heart felt like stone. "Well, Grindelwald fled, as anyone but I could have predicted. He vanished, with his plans for seizing power, and his schemes for Muggle torture, and his dreams of the Deathly Hallows, dreams in which I had encouraged him and helped him. He ran, while I was left to bury my sister, and learn to live with my guilt and my terrible grief, the price of my shame." Years passed. There were rumours about him. They said he had procured a wand of immense power. I, meanwhile, was offered the post of Minister of Magic, not once, but several times. Naturally, I refused. I had learned that I was not to be trusted with power."

"But you'd have been better, much better, than Fudge or Scimgeour!" burst out Harry. Then again, a rock would be better than Fudge.

"Would I?" asked Dumbledore heavily. "I am not so sure. I had proven, as a very young man, that power was my weakness and my temptation. It is a curious thing, Harry, but perhaps those who are best suited to power are those who have never sought it. Those who, like you, have leadership thrust upon them, and take up the mantle because they must, and find to their own surprise that they wear it well. I was safer at Hogwarts. I think I was a good teacher. But while I busied myself with the training of young wizards, Grindelwald was raising an army. They say he feared me, and perhaps he did, but less, I think, then I feared him. Oh, not death," said Dumbledore, in answer to Harry's questioning look. "Not what he could do to me magically. I knew that we were evenly matched, perhaps that I was a shade more skilful. It was the truth I feared. You see, I never knew which of us, in that last, horrific fight, had actually cast the curse that killed my sister. You may call me cowardly: You would be right, Harry. I dreaded beyond all things the knowledge that it had been I who brought about her death, not merely through my arrogance and stupidity, but that I actually struck the blow that snuffed out her life. I think he knew it, I think he knew what frightened me. I delayed meeting him until finally, it would have been too shameful to resist any longer. People were dying, and he seemed unstoppable, and I had to do what I could. Well, you know what happened next. I won the duel. I won the wand."

Another silence. Harry did not ask whether Dumbledore had ever found out who struck Ariana dead. He did not want to know, and even less did he want Dumbledore to have to tell him. At last he knew what Dumbledore would have seen when he looked in the mirror of Erised, and why Dumbledore had been so understanding of the fascination it had exercised over Harry. They sat in silence for a long time, and the whimpering's of the creature behind them barely disturbed Harry anymore. At last he said, "Grindelwald tried to stop Voldemort going after the wand. He lied, you know, pretended he had never had it."

Dumbledore nodded, looking down at his lap, tears still glittering on the crooked nose. "They say he showed remorse in later years, alone in his cell at Nurmengard. I hope that is true. I would like to think that he did feel the horror and shame of what he had done. Perhaps that lie to Voldemort was his attempt to make amends... to prevent Voldemort from taking the Hallow..."

"...or maybe from breaking into your tomb?" suggested Harry, and Dumbledore dabbed his eyes. After another short pause Harry said, "You tried to use the Resurrection Stone."

Dumbledore nodded. "When I discovered it, after all those years, buried in the abandoned home of the Gaunt's, the Hallow I had craved most of all, though in my youth I had wanted it for very different reasons. I lost my head, Harry. I quite forgot that I was not a Horcrux, that the ring was sure to carry a curse. I picked it up, and I put it on, and for a second I imagined that I was about to see Ariana, and my mother, and my father, and to tell them how very, very sorry, I was...I was such a fool, Harry. After all those years I had learned nothing. I was unworthy to unite the Deathly Hallows, I had proved it time and again, and here was final proof."

"Why?" said Harry. "It was natural! You wanted to see them again. What's wrong with that?"

"Maybe a man in a million could unite the Hallows, Harry. I was fit only to possess the meanest of them, the least extraordinary. I was fit to own the Elder Wand, and not boast of it, and not to kill with it. I was permitted to tame and use it, because I took it, not for gain, but to save others from it. But the Cloak, I took out of vain curiosity, and so it could never have worked for me as it works for you, it's true owner. The stone I would have used in an attempt to drag back those who are at peace, rather than enable my self-sacrifice, as you did. You are the worthy possessor of the Hallows." Dumbledore patted Harry's hand, and Harry looked up at the old man and sighed, he was still mad at him, but he could understand more now.

"Why did you have to make it so difficult?" he demanded, tired of all the tricks and half-truths this man had given him in life.

Dumbledore's smile was tremulous. "I am afraid I counted on Miss Granger to slow you up, Harry. I was afraid that your hot head might dominate your good heart. I was scared that, if presented outright with the facts about those tempting objects, you might seize the Hallows as I did, at the wrong time, for the wrong reasons. If you laid hands on them, I wanted you to possess them safely. You are the true master of death, because the true master does not seek to run away from Death. He accepts that he must die, and understands that there are far, far worse things in the living world than dying."

"And Voldemort never knew about the Hallows?"

"I do not think so, because he did not recognize the Resurrection Stone he turned into a Horcrux. But even if he had known about them, Harry. I doubt that he would have been interested in any except the first. He would not think that he needed the Cloak, and as for the stone, whom would he want to bring back from the dead? He fears the dead. He does not love."

"But you expected him to go after the wand?"

"I have been sure that he would try, ever since your wand beat Voldemort's in the graveyard of Little Hangleton. At first, he was afraid that you had conquered him by superior skill. Once he had kidnapped Ollivander, however, he discovered the existence of the twin cores. He thought that explained everything. Yet the borrowed wand did no better against yours! So, Voldemort, instead of asking himself what quality it was in you that had made your wand so strong, what gift you possessed that he did not, naturally set out to find the one wand that, they said, would beat any other. For him, the Elder Wand has become an obsession to rival his obsession with you. He believes that the Elder Wand removes his last weakness and makes him truly invincible. Poor Severus..."

"If you planned your death with Snape, you meant him to end up with the Elder Wand, didn't you?"

"I admit that was my intention," said Dumbledore, "but it did not work as I intended, did it?"

"No," said Harry. "That bit didn't work out." The creature behind them jerked and moaned, and Harry and Dumbledore sat without talking for the longest time yet. The realization of what would happen next settled gradually over Harry in the long minutes, like softly falling snow. "I've got to go back, haven't I?"

"That is up to you."

"I've got a choice?" he snorted in disbelief, when did Dumbledore ever give him a real choice?

"Oh yes," Dumbledore smiled at him. "We are in King's Cross you say? I think that if you decided not to go back, you would be able to... let's say... board a train."

"And where would it take me?"

"On," said Dumbledore simply. Silence again.

"Voldemort's got the Elder Wand."

"True. Voldemort has the Elder Wand."

"But you want me to go back?"

"I think," said Dumbledore, "that if you choose to return, there is a chance that he may be finished for good. I cannot promise it. But I know this, Harry, that you have less to fear from returning here than he does."

Harry glanced again at the raw looking thing that trembled and choked in the shadow beneath the distant chair.

"Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living, and above all, those who live without love. By returning, you may ensure that fewer souls are maimed, fewer families are torn apart. If that seems to you a worthy goal, they we saw good-bye for the present."

Harry nodded and sighed. Leaving this place would not be nearly as hard as walking into the forest had been, but it was warm and light and peaceful here, and he knew that he was heading back to pain and the fear of more loss. He stood up, and Dumbledore did the same, and they looked for a long moment into each other's faces. "Tell me one last thing," said Harry, "Is this real? Or has this been happening inside my head?"

Dumbledore beamed at him, and his voice sounded loud and strong in Harry's ears even though the bright mist was descending again, obscuring his figure. "Of course, it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean it is not real?"

Harry groaned but then smirked, "in that case." His fist lashed out and he felt the crunch of bone under his fist. "That's for everything you've put me and everyone else through. For Sirius, Remus, Tonks and Fred, they didn't have to die," he snarled and then turned his back on the old man, ready to go back now. It was time to think of the living and leave the dead to themselves.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

"Neville here is now going to demonstrate what happens to anyone foolish enough to continue to oppose me," said Voldemort, and with a flick of his wand, he caused the Sorting Hat to burst into flames.

Screams split the dawn, and Neville was a flame, rooted to the spot, unable to move, and Harry could not bear it, he must act. And suddenly everything was happening at once. They heard uproar from the distant boundary of the school as what sounded like hundreds of people came swarming over the out-of-sight walls and pelted toward the castle, uttering loud war cries. At the same time, Grawp came lumbering around the side of the castle and yelled, "HAGGER!" His cry was answered by roars from Voldemort's giants: They ran at Grawp like bull elephants making the earth quake. Then came hooves and the twangs of bows, and arrows were suddenly falling amongst the Death Eaters, who broke ranks, shouting their surprise. Harry pulled the Invisibility Cloak from inside his robes, swung it over himself, and sprang to his feet, as Neville moved too.

In one swift, fluid motion, Neville broke free of the Body-Bind Curse upon him; the flaming hat fell off him and he drew from its depths something silver, with a glittering, rubied handle - the slash of the silver blade could not be heard over the roar of the oncoming crowd or the sounds of the clashing giants or of the stampeding centaurs, and yet, it seemed to draw every eye. With a single stroke Neville sliced off the great snake's head, which spun high into the air, gleaming in the light flooding from the entrance hall, and Voldemort's mouth was open in a scream of fury that nobody could hear, and the snake's body thudded to the ground at his feet.

Hidden beneath the Invisibility Cloak, Harry cast a Shield Charm between Neville and Voldemort before the latter could raise his stamps of the battling giants, Hagrid's yell came loudest of all.

"HARRY!" Hagrid shouted. "HARRY? WHERE'S HARRY?" Chaos reigned. The charging centaurs were scattering the Death Eaters, everyone was feeling the giants' stamping feet, and nearer and nearer thundered the reinforcements that had come from who knew where; Harry saw great winged creatures soaring the heads of Voldemort's giants, thestrals and Buckbeak the hippogriff scratching at their eyes while Grawp punched and pummelled them and now the wizards, defenders of Hogwarts and Death Eaters alike were being forced back into the castle. Harry was shooting curses at any Death Eater he could see, and they crumpled, not knowing what or who had hit them, and their bodies were trampled by the retreating crowd. Still hidden beneath the Invisibility Cloak, Harry was buffered into the entrance hall; he was searching for Voldemort and saw him across the room, firing spells from his wand as he backed into the Great Hall, still screaming instructions to his followers as he sent curses flying left and right. Harry cast more Shield Charms, and Voldemort's would-be victims. Seamus Finnigan and Hannah Abbott darted past him into the Great Hall, where they joined the fight already flourishing inside it.

And now there were more, even more people storming up the front steps, and Harry saw Charlie Weasley overtaking Horace Slughorn, who was still wearing his emerald pyjamas. They seemed to have returned at the head of what looked like the families and friends of every Hogwarts student who had remained to fight along with the shop keeps and homeowners of Hogsmeade. The centaurs Bane, Ronan and Magorian burst into the hall with a great clatter of hooves, as behind Harry the door that led to the kitchens was blasted off its hinges.

The house-elves of Hogwarts swarmed into the entrance hall, screaming and waving carving knives and cleavers, and at their head, the locket of Regulus Black bouncing on his chest, was Kreacher, his bullfrog's voice audible even above this din: "Fight! Fight! Fight for my Master, defender of house-elves! Fight the Dark Lord, in the name of brave Regulus! Fight!" They were hacking and stabbing at the ankles and shins of Death Eaters their tiny faces alive with malice, and everywhere Harry looked Death Eaters were folding under sheer weight of numbers, overcome by spells, dragging arrows from wounds, stabbed in the leg by elves, or else simply attempting to escape, but swallowed by the oncoming horde. It was amazing to see the small beings fighting for the school and he actually paused to watch them before moving on, if only Dobby had lived to see this.

But it was not over yet; Harry sped between duellers and into the Great Hall.

Voldemort was in the centre of the battle, and he was striking and smiting all within reach. Harry could not get a clear shot, but fought his way nearer, still invisible, and the Great Hall became more and more crowded as everyone who could walk forced their way inside.

Harry saw Yaxley slammed to the floor by George and Lee Jordan, saw Dolohov fall with a scream at Flitwick's hands, saw Walden Macnair thrown across the room by Hagrid, hit the stone wall opposite, and slide unconscious, possibly dead, to the ground. He saw Ron and Neville bringing down Fenrir Greyback for good. Aberforth Stunning Rookwood, Arthur and Percy flooring Thicknesse, and Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy running through the crowd, not even attempting to fight, screaming for their son. He let them go, not even attempting to curse them, Narcissa had helped his deception while playing dead after all, for that he would spare them here, but he would see them in court for everything they had done.

Voldemort was now duelling McGonagall, Slughorn, and Kingsley all at once, and there was a cold hatred in his face as they wove and ducked around him, unable to finish him. Bellatrix was still fighting too, fifty yards away from Voldemort, and like her master she duelled three at once: Hermione, Ginny and Luna, all battling their hardest, but Bellatrix was equal to them, and Harry's attention was diverted as a Killing Curse shot so close to Ginny that she missed death by an inch. He changed course, running at Bellatrix rather than Voldemort, but before he had gone a few steps he was knocked sideways.

"NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!" Mrs. Weasley threw off her cloak as she ran, freeing her arms, Bellatrix spun on the spot, roaring with laughter at the sight of the new challenger. "OUT OF MY WAY!" shouted Mrs. Weasley to the three girls, and with a simple swipe of her wand she began to duel. Harry watched with terror and elation as Molly Weasley's wand slashed and twisted, and Bellatrix Lestrange's smile faltered and became a snarl. Jets of light flew from both wands, the floor around the witches' feet became hot and cracked; both women were fighting to kill. "No!" Mrs. Weasley cried as a few students ran forward, trying to come to her aid. "Get back! Get back! She is mine!"

Hundreds of people now lined the walls, watching the two fights, Voldemort and his three opponents, Bellatrix and Molly, and Harry stood, invisible, torn between both, wanting to attack and yet to protect, unable to be sure that he would not hit the innocent.

"What will happen to your children when I've killed you?" taunted Bellatrix, as mad as her master, capering as Molly's curses danced around her. "When Mummy's gone the same way as Freddie?"

"You will never touch our children again!" screamed Mrs. Weasley.

Bellatrix laughed the same exhilarated laugh her cousin Sirius had given as he toppled backward through the veil, and suddenly Harry knew what was going to happen before it did. Molly's curse soared beneath Bellatrix's constricted arm and hit her squarely in the chest, directly over her heart. Bellatrix's gloating smile froze, her eyes seemed to bulge: For the tiniest space of time she knew what had happened, and then she toppled, and the watching crowd roared, and Voldemort screamed.

Harry felt as though he turned into slow motion; he saw McGonagall, Kingsley and Slughorn blasted backward, flailing and writhing through the air, as Voldemort's fury at the fall of his last, best lieutenant exploded with the force of a bomb, Voldemort raised his wand and directed it at Molly Weasley.

"Protego!" roared Harry, and the Shield Charm expanded in the middle of the Hall, and Voldemort stared around for the source as Harry pulled off the Invisibility Cloak at last.

The yell of shock, the cheers, the screams on every side of: "Harry! HE'S ALIVE!" were stifled at once. The crowd was afraid, and silence fell abruptly and completely as Voldemort and Harry looked at each other, and began, at the same moment, to circle each other.

"I don't want anyone else to help," Harry said loudly, and in the total silence his voice carried like a trumpet call. "It's got to be like this. It's got to be me." He was the only chance left after the way Riddle had dealt with Kinsley and the others.

Voldemort hissed. "Potter doesn't mean that," he said, his red eyes wide. "This isn't how he works, is it? Who are you going to use as a shield today, Potter?"

"Nobody," said Harry simply, utterly calm, outwardly at least. If the prophecy had held any truth it was now fulfilled, meaning the fight could go either way. "There are no more Horcruxes. It's just you and me. Neither can live while the other survives, and one of us is about to leave for good..." he smirked at Riddle, egging him on, feeling somehow reckless, the angrier Tom got the sloppier his spell work.

"One of us?" jeered Voldemort, and his whole body was taut, and his red eyes stared, a snake that was about to strike. "You think it will be you, do you, the boy who has survived by accident, and because Dumbledore was pulling the strings?"

"Accident, was it, when my mother died to save me?" asked Harry. They were still moving sideways, both of them, in that perfect circle, maintaining the same distance from each other, and for Harry no face existed but Voldemort's. "Accident, when I decided to fight in that graveyard? Accident, that I didn't defend myself tonight, and still survived, and returned to fight again?"

"Accidents!" screamed Voldemort, but still he did not strike, and the watching crowd was frozen as if Petrified. Of the hundreds in the Hall, nobody seemed to breathe but them and Harry smirked at his opponent. "Accident and chance and the fact that you crouched and snivelled behind the skirts of greater men and women and permitted me to kill them for you!"

"You know, there's this river in Egypt…" He shook his head. "You won't be killing anyone else tonight," said Harry as they circled, and stared into each other's eyes, green into red. "You won't be able to kill any of them ever again. Don't you get it? I was ready to die to stop you from hurting these people."

"But you did not!"

"I meant to, and that's what did it. I've done what my mother did. They're protected from you. Haven't you noticed how none of the spells you put on them are binding? You can't torture them. You can't touch them. You don't learn from your mistakes, Riddle, do you?" he hadn't noticed it at first, but it was obvious now, otherwise the hall would be littered with the dead.

"You dare!"

"Yes, I dare," said Harry. "I know things you don't know, Tom Riddle. I know lots of important things that you don't. Want to hear some, before you make another big mistake?"

Voldemort did not speak, but prowled in a circle, and Harry knew that he kept him temporarily mesmerized at bay, held back by the faintest possibility that Harry might indeed know a final secret... "Is it love again?" said Voldemort, his snake's face jeering. "Dumbledore favourite solution, love, which he claimed conquered death, though love did not stop him falling from the tower and breaking like and old waxwork? Love, which did not prevent me stamping out your Mudblood mother like a cockroach, Potter and nobody seems to love you enough to run forward this time and take my curse. So, what will stop you dying now when I strike?"

"Just one thing," said Harry, and still they circled each other, wrapped in each other, held apart by nothing but the last secret.

"If it is not love that will save you this time," said Voldemort, "you must believe that you have magic that I do not, or else a weapon more powerful than mine?"

"I believe both," said Harry, and he saw shock flit across the snakelike face, though it was instantly dispelled; Voldemort began to laugh, and the sound was more frightening than his screams; humourless and insane, it echoed around the silent Hall.

"You think you know more magic than I do?" he said. "Then I, then Lord Voldemort, who has performed magic that Dumbledore himself never dreamed of?"

"Oh, he dreamed of it," said Harry, "but he knew more than you, knew enough not to do what you've done."

"You mean he was weak!" screamed Voldemort. "Too weak to dare, too weak to take what might have been his, what will be mine!"

"No, he was cleverer than you," said Harry, "a better wizard, a better man." No one else needed to know of how he really felt about Dumbledore, it would do no good. And he was better than Riddle, if not by a lot.

"I brought about the death of Albus Dumbledore!"

"You thought you did," said Harry, "but you were wrong." For the first time, the watching crowd stirred as the hundreds of people around the walls drew breath as one.

"Dumbledore is dead!" Voldemort hurled the words at Harry as in the marble tomb in the grounds of this castle, "I have seen it, Potter, and he will not return!"

"Yes, Dumbledore is dead," said Harry calmly, "but you didn't have him killed. He chose his own manner of dying, chose it months before he died, arranged the whole thing with the man you thought was your servant."

"What childish dream is this?" said Voldemort, but still he did not strike, and his red eyes did not waver from Harry's.

"Severus Snape wasn't yours," said Harry. "Snape was Dumbledore's. Dumbledore's from the moment you started hunting down my mother. And you never realized it, because of the thing you can't understand. You never saw Snape cast a Patronus, did you, Riddle?" Voldemort did not answer. They continued to circle each other like wolves about to tear each other apart. "Snape's Patronus was a doe," said Harry, "the same as my mother's, because he loved her for nearly all of his life, from the time when they were children. You should have realized," he said as he saw Voldemort's nostrils flare, "he asked you to spare her life, didn't he?"

"He desired her, that was all," sneered Voldemort, "but when she had gone, he agreed that there were other women, and of purer blood, worthier of him."

"Of course, he told you that," said Harry, "but he was Dumbledore's spy from the moment you threatened her, and he's been working against you ever since! Dumbledore was already dying when Snape finished him!" He still wasn't 100% sure what he was saying was true, Snape may have simply desired her for himself, after all he was not a good man, he had cared nothing for the man and baby that would die that night, only Lily. He could admit the man had been a brilliant potions master, but he was a rotten teacher and human being. A good man would not have taken out his anger to a dead man on a child who knew nothing.

"It matters not!" shrieked Voldemort, who had followed every word with rapt attention, but now let out a cackle of mad laughter. "It matters not whether Snape was mine or Dumbledore's, or what petty obstacles they tried to put in my path! I crushed them as I crushed your mother, Snape's supposed great love! Oh, but it all makes sense, Potter, and in ways that you do not understand! Dumbledore was trying to keep the Elder Wand from me! He intended that Snape should be the true master of the wand! But I got there ahead of you, little boy I reached the wand before you could get your hands on it, I understood the truth before you caught up. I killed Severus Snape three hours ago, and the Elder Wand, the Deathstick, the Wand of Destiny is truly mine! Dumbledore's last plan went wrong, Harry Potter!"

"Yeah, it did." said Harry. "You're right. But before you try to kill me, I'd advise you to think what you've done... Think, and try for some remorse, Riddle..."

"What is this?"

Of all the things that Harry had said to him, beyond any revelation or taunt, nothing had socked Voldemort like this. Harry saw his pupils' contract to thin slits, saw the skin around his eyes whiten. "It's your one last chance," said Harry, "it's all you've got left... I've seen what you'll be otherwise... Be a man... try...try for some remorse..."

"You dare?" said Voldemort again.

"Yes, I dare," said Harry, "because Dumbledore's last plan hasn't backfired on me at all. It's backfired on you, Riddle." Voldemort's hand was trembling on the Elder Wand, and Harry gripped Draco's very tightly. The moment, he knew, was seconds away. "That wand still isn't working properly for you because you murdered the wrong person. Severus Snape was never the true master of the Elder Wand. He never defeated Dumbledore."

"He killed him. "

"Aren't you listening? Snape never beat Dumbledore! Dumbledore's death was planned between them! Dumbledore intended to die, undefeated, the wand's last true master! If all had gone as planned, the wand's power would have died with him, because it had never been won from him!"

"But then, Potter, Dumbledore as good as gave me the wand!" Voldemort's voice shook with malicious pleasure. "I stole the wand from its last master's tomb! I removed it against the last master's wishes! Its power is mine!"

"You still don't get it, Riddle, do you? Possessing the wand isn't enough! Holding it, using it, doesn't make it really yours. Didn't you listen to Ollivander? The wand chooses the wizard... The Elder Wand recognized a new master before Dumbledore died, someone who never even laid a hand on it. The new master removed the wand from Dumbledore against his will, never realizing exactly what he had done, or that the world's most dangerous wand had given him its allegiance..." Voldemort's chest rose and fell rapidly, and Harry could feel the curse coming, feel it building inside the wand pointed at his face. "The true master of the Elder Wand was Draco Malfoy."

Blank shock showed in Voldemort's face for a moment, but then it was gone. "But what does it matter?" he said softly. "Even if you are right, Potter, it makes no difference to you and me. You no longer have the phoenix wand: We duel on skill alone... and after I have killed you, I can attend to Draco Malfoy..."

"But you're too late," said Harry. "You've missed your chance. I got there first. I overpowered Draco weeks ago. I took his wand from him." Harry twitched the hawthorn wand, and he felt the eyes of everyone in the Hall upon it. "So, it all comes down to this, doesn't it?" whispered Harry. "Does the wand in your hand know its last master was Disarmed? Because if it does... I am the true master of the Elder Wand."

A red-glow burst suddenly across the enchanted sky above them as an edge of dazzling sun appeared over the sill of the nearest window. The light hit both of their faces at the same time, so that Voldemort's was suddenly a flaming blur. Harry heard the high voice shriek as he too yelled his best hope to the heavens, pointing Draco's wand: "Avada Kedavra!"

"Reducto!" just in case it didn't work, he was firing something more than a disarming spell, he was aiming to kill.

The bang was like a cannon blast, and the golden flames that erupted between them, at the dead centre of the circle they had been treading, marked the point where the spells collided. Harry saw Voldemort's green jet meet his own spell, saw the Elder Wand fly high, dark against the sunrise, spinning across the enchanted ceiling like the head of Nagini, spinning through the air toward the master it would not kill, who had come to take full possession of it at last, even as Harry's curse hit Riddle in the chest. And Harry, with the unerring skill of the Seeker, caught the wand in his free hand as Voldemort fell backward, arms splayed, the slit pupils of the scarlet eyes rolling upward, chest caved in. Tom Riddle hit the floor with a mundane finality, his body feeble and shrunken, the white hands empty, the snakelike face vacant and unknowing. Voldemort was dead, killed by his own rebounding curse and Harry's Reducto, and Harry stood with two wands in his hand, staring down at his enemy's shell.

One shivering second of silence, the shock of the moment suspended, and then the tumult broke around Harry as the screams and the cheers and the roars of the watchers rent the air. The fierce new sun dazzled the windows as they thundered toward him, and the first to reach him were Ron and Hermione, and it was their arms that were wrapped around him, their incomprehensible shouts that deafened him. Then Ginny, Neville, and Luna were there, and then all the Weasley's and Hagrid, and Kingsley and McGonagall and Flitwick and Sprout, and Harry could not hear a word that anyone was shouting, not tell whose hands were seizing him, pulling him, trying to hug some part of him, hundreds of them pressing in, all of them determined to touch the Boy Who Lived, the reason it was over at last. The sun rose steadily over Hogwarts, and the Great Hall blazed with life and light.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Since he had last seen it, the gargoyle guarding the entrance to the headmaster's study had been knocked aside; it stood lopsided, looking a little punch-drunk, and Harry wondered whether it would be able to distinguish passwords anymore. "Can we go up?" he asked the gargoyle.

"Feel free," groaned the statue.

They clambered over him and onto the spiral stone staircase that moved slowly upward like an escalator. Harry pushed open the door at the top. He had one, brief glimpse of the stone Pensieve on the desk where he had left it, and then an ear-splitting noise made him cry out, thinking of curses and returning Death Eaters and the rebirth of Voldemort.

But it was applause. All around the walls, the headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts were giving him a standing ovation; they waved their hats and in some cases their wigs, they reached through their frames to grip each other's hands; they danced up and down on their chairs in which they have been painted: Dilys Derwent sobbed unashamedly; Dexter Fortescue was waving his ear-trumpet; and Phineas Nigellus called, in his high, reedy voice, "And let it be noted that Slytherin House played its part! Let our contribution not be forgotten!"

But Harry had eyes only for the man who stood in the largest portrait directly behind the headmaster's chair. Tears were sliding down from behind the half-moon spectacles into the long silver beard, and the pride and the gratitude emanating from him were obvious, even as Harry felt nothing. He was done with Albus, it was too tiring to stay mad, but he no longer cared for his praise either.

At last, Harry held up his hands, and the portraits fell respectfully silent, beaming and mopping their eyes and waiting eagerly for him to speak. He directed his words at Dumbledore, however, and chose them with enormous care. Exhausted and bleary-eyed though he was, he must make one last effort, one last little bit of theatre to play. "The thing that was hidden in the Snitch," he began, "I dropped it in the forest. I don't know exactly where, but I'm not going to go looking for it again. Do you agree?" He lied, the Hallows were too dangerous to just leave lying around, especially so close to a school.

"My dear boy, I do," said Dumbledore, while his fellow pictures looked confused and curious. "A wise and courageous decision, but no less than I would have expected of you. Does anyone know else know where it fell?"

"No one," said Harry, and Dumbledore nodded his satisfaction.

"I'm going to keep Ignotus' present, though," said Harry, and Dumbledore beamed.

"But of course, Harry, it is yours forever, until you pass it on!"

"And then there's this." Harry held up the Elder Wand, and Ron and Hermione looked at it with a reverence that, even in his befuddled and sleep-deprived state, Harry did not like to see. "I don't want it." said Harry.

"What?" said Ron loudly. "Are you mental?"

"I know it's powerful," said Harry wearily. "But I was happier with mine. So..." He rummaged in the pouch hung around his neck, and pulled out the two halves of holly still just connected by the finest threat of phoenix feather. Hermione had said that they could not be repaired, that the damage was too severe. All he knew was that if this did not work, nothing would. He laid the broken wand upon the headmaster's desk, touched it with the very tip of the Elder Wand, and said, "Reparo." As his wand resealed, red sparks flew out of its end. Harry knew that he had succeeded. He picked up the holly and phoenix wand and felt a sudden warmth in his fingers, as though wand and hand were rejoicing at their reunion. "I'm putting the Elder Wand," he told Dumbledore, who was watching him with enormous affection and admiration, "back where it came from. It can stay there. If I die a natural death like Ignotus, its power will be broken, won't it? The previous master will never have been defeated. That'll be the end of it." Dumbledore nodded and they smiled at each other, even though Harry's was a lie.

"Are you sure?" said Ron. There was the faintest trace of longing in his voice as he looked at the Elder Wand.

"I think Harry's right," said Hermione quietly.

"That wand's more trouble than it's worth." said Harry. "And quite honestly," he turned away from the painted portraits, thinking now only of the four-poster bed lying waiting for him in Gryffindor Tower, and wondering whether Kreacher might bring him a sandwich there, "I've had enough trouble for a lifetime."

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Harry bent down and picked up the stone, putting it in his pocket with the wand before returning to the castle, hidden beneath his cloak. He would ensure the Hallows remained safe and hidden, no one else would die over them. The world didn't need such power. Thankfully the dorms were undamaged as no one had wanted to return home yet. Clean clothes had been found for those who needed it and Harry had spent over an hour soaking in the Prefects bath, who knew dying and coming back would make him ache so much.

He didn't feel bad about lying to Dumbledore's portrait at all. So much pain could have been avoided if he had acted sooner or not held his cards so close, even from allies.

Maybe it was time to give magic a break for a while. Convince the others they deserved a holiday somewhere nice, warm and sunny. The Caribbean sounded good.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Harry sat leaning against a wall, sword at his side. He glanced at the blade and sighed before picking it up and using a rag to carefully remove the black blood. How had this become his life? They were meant to live happily and in peace once Riddle was gone for good. It had lasted all of a year, and ten years later he could still smell the burnt flesh…. hear their screams as the Burrow burned.

He looked up as Hermione sat opposite him and began disassembling and cleaning her shotgun. She had changed so much since then, her hair cut short, worn military styled clothes, 'muggle' weapons…there was very little left of the wide-eyed bookworm anymore. Her parent's deaths in Australia had helped the metamorphosis. She had taken their memories and sent them away to be safe… only for them to die when two thirds of the country were wiped out.

Then again, he had changed a lot too, his messy black hair tamed by length and tied back, eyes cured by a mixture of muggle and magical means, no longer a scrawny seventeen-year-old but now well-muscled and fitter than ever, a side effect from fighting with a sword and occasionally heavier weaponry nearly non-stop. He carried a handgun and the standard P90 that everyone was issued. The hand-me-downs from his cousin were long gone, now he favoured dragon hide for the extra protection mixed in with bits of the military style most wore. "Anything?"

"No." She put the now clean weapon into the holster where it shrank to fit. "It looks like the portals have become self-sustaining, no more summoners needed so no one to send us after." She took a sip form her canteen and tossed it to him, so he could drink.

"And we still don't know how to shut the damn things down," he sighed and let his head fall back against the wall. Last count they were up to thirteen portals, who knew how many more had appeared now. He absently played with the ring on his finger, the Potter crest etched in rubies. What no one could see was the second ring, merged into it, the perfect hiding place for the Resurrection Stone for as long as he lived. After Ginny's death, it had been so tempting to use it, but he had resisted. Looking back at that day in the forest, he wasn't sure it was what it said it was. What parent in their right mind encouraged their child to walk to their death? Not that it mattered anymore, he'd survived in the end. He always survived.

"We're losing," she whispered, and his eyes opened in shock to stare at her. He'd never heard her lose hope before, even when Ron had died she had kept fighting to win.

"Mione…."

"No Harry, facts are facts. We have finite numbers, they don't. We need sleep, food, water, they don't. A blind man can see that sooner or later they will win, either by killing us all or we all die because the planet is. I don't mind anymore, we'll be with everyone again." She smiled sadly.

They were all that was left of the DA anymore. He thought some of the Ministry or Hogwarts staff might be around still, stationed elsewhere. Magicals had been targeted first as the greater threat so those still left had been spread out to keep them from easily being wiped out. Their partnership was allowed only because they'd proven an unbeatable team. She crawled to his side and curled into him, his arm wrapping around her immediately. "I'm sorry," he whispered, kissing the top of her head. They were comfortable with each other, partners in everything. It wasn't love, not that kind anyone, but everyone needed stress relief when there was a break and they trusted no one else enough to be so vulnerable with them.

"For what?"

"Not saving the world," he managed a crooked grin and she slapped his arm.

"You saved it once Harry, that's more than anyone else can claim," she argued, and he grimaced but nodded.

"I've got watch, get some sleep," he murmured and remained still as she slipped into a light sleep, ready to wake at the slightest change. No one slept deeply anymore.

He knew she was right, this wasn't his fault, he had fulfilled the Prophecy and destroyed Riddle, he'd even managed to come back from the dead to do it. And he'd done as expected of him after a short vacation in the tropics, joined the Auror's, become a Hit Wizard, asked Ginny to marry him and then a report had come in from Malaysia…some idiot had decided to summon a demon.

He'd been part of the team sent, after all he had been the equal of the most feared Dark Lord and everyone knew he was scary powerful…he'd been one of three survivors from that international team. Three weeks later the Burrow had burned with Mr and Mrs Weasley, Percy and Ginny inside. The entire town had been destroyed by fire that resisted all magical means of extinguishing. The fires had burnt every magical village to the ground, anywhere were more than five magicals congregated.

Hogwarts, Durmstrang, a handful of the really old magical schools had survived and become refuges. They were centred on ley lines and that gave them extra protection. But in the end even that had not been enough to save them. Ron, Luna, Neville….so many had died defending the schools from the hordes and they had died for nothing. The world had gone from somewhere around 5 billion to a million, if they were lucky, in only a few years…not that he had any idea what year it was anymore. He'd stopped keeping track maybe six months in. All he knew was normal had ended in 1998. Thinking about it, he thought he was about twenty-eight, not that he looked it, so…welcome to the new millennia.

It was amazing what it took for magicals to grow up and see the rest of the population as smart and inventive. It had been by mixing magic and technology that allowed them to fight so long. Weapons imbued with magic to take demons out quicker, self-replicating ammo for guns. He activated the HUD, smiling as he remembered a long ago move that had holographic tech, but this was possible due to magic. The display came from a small implant under the skin behind his left ear, with thousands of runes microscopically etched on the surface. The 'holographic interface' was really an ingenious bit of magic that allowed him to watch their surroundings for heat signatures, increasing his hearing range, picking up transmissions form others, showed maps, compass, environmental information…even health indicators and it was all sent directly to his optic nerves, overlaying his normal vision so that he saw both. It had taken a lot of getting used to, even for the pilots who were used to ones that were displayed in the planes. Now they were standard equipment for everyone and an invaluable tool.

He woke Hermione a few hours later and settled in to get some sleep himself.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Harry spun and ducked before lunging, his blade sliding between scales and then he turned to face the next threat. Black hair was plastered to his face and neck as he breathed heavily, magic sizzling under his skin. They'd been fighting for almost an hour now and they just kept coming. They had to keep fighting, had to win or the twenty-people hidden in the bunker would die. He snarled and sent out a blast of pure magic, frying two of the demons before hacking the head off a third and shooting another with the gun in his off hand. He heard Hermione curse and fire a shot before feeling her magic flare nearby. They'd lost sight of each other a while ago which he really didn't like but no matter what he tried he couldn't get to her, even as his HUD flashed warnings on her health.

His world ended as he heard a choked off cry and then all sense of Hermione vanished, her life signs vanishing from his HUD too. "NO!" He screamed, and his magic exploded, killing everything within thirty feet, leaving him to slump to the ground, core exhausted.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Harry stared at the map being displayed before him, knowing the others were all looking at it through their own HUD's, face blank as the talking continued. They'd finally figured out how to close the portals…they had to take out the main one and all the others should close after it. The problem was the method required to close it. "I'll do it," he finally said, annoyed by their arguing.

"No way," Gary snapped. "You're the last really powerful magical we've got. You're needed."

"They just said the more power the better to close these things. That makes me the best choice."

"Harry…do you realise what you're offering?" Gabrielle Delacour asked, her English far better than her sisters had ever had the chance to get.

He actually managed a slight smile for the young woman he had once pulled from the lake. "I know." He would be trapped on the other side of the closed portals, if the process didn't kill him.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Harry ignored the battles around him, focused solely on his goal. Hermione's shotgun slung across his back, P90 across his chest, handgun in one hand and sword in the other as he fought his way to ground zero. He looked at the tear in reality, able to feel the evil, even as data streamed before his eyes,… the wrongness of it. He removed the charged crystals and quickly placed them, activating them before looking back over the battlefield. He could see explosions from artillery, a few spells flying, the sound of various weapons, the screams of the dying… he almost smiled as he spotted Gabrielle transformed into harpy form, hurling fireballs. Harry turned back to the portal as the crystals all turned gold and took a deep breath before stepping forward.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

The battle field became eerily quiet and Gabrielle turned to see the portal pulsating. He'd done it then, he'd made it and placed the crystals. The demons began shrieking and trying to run even as the pulsating picked up speed. "Fall back!" She screamed into the comms, turning and running as fast as she could. She heard an enormous boom and then was picked up and flung along with the shockwave.

When she woke she forced herself to her knees, ignoring the pain to look around. There was nothing as far as the eye could see, no portal or demons… just the stunned and injured people and their dead. She staggered up and wiped at her face to find she was crying. Harry had done it, he'd saved them all one last time. "Merci Harry." She whispered before turning to begin helping the others.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

In a field in Illinois green eyes snapped open in shock as he gasped desperately for air, before struggling to his feet and looking around at untouched fields in shock. What the hell?

 _TBC…_


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: Not mine_

 _Kiza isn't a character option on ffnet, so letting you know the pairings here. Harry/Kiza and Caine/Jupiter._

 _Please re-read ch1, at least from where the demon wars start as something was added._

 **Chapter 2**

Harry stood at the window, looking out at the Chicago skyline, still barely able to believe it even after two years in this world. He'd never been to America before waking in that field, but he knew it had been years since cities like this existed, he'd thought he'd been dumped back in the past until he saw the date, 2015. Far past the date when he had stepped into the portal. There was no sign of the invasion and war that had destroyed his world, so he wasn't entirely sure what had happened to him. He was a soldier with no war to fight and he was still trying to relax into civilian life.

There were no signs of magic in this world, he'd looked, researching everything he could find on magic, but it was all folklore and fantasy. The forceful merging of science and magic meant that even in a war, a lot of the things he was used to were more advanced than this future world, which was a little weird. He was thankful for that, and that everyone carried all of their belongings on them at all times, since it had allowed him to create a life for himself, with all the necessary paperwork. Landing in an English-speaking country had also been helpful, even if his implant could translate for him he preferred not to rely on it. There wasn't anything he could do about his accent, so he was still a Brit, just one that had become an American citizen as well. He had chosen to stay close to where he had appeared, in case someone, somehow came looking for him, no matter how unlikely that was. he had a nice townhouse in the suburbs of the city and no job, living off 'family money'. But what job could he do? He'd never had a job and the few he had the skills for either didn't exist here or held no interest for him.

He'd started writing a few months back, getting everything in paper, well computer. And it had hit him, he could always publish fantasy books, his life was one big soap opera after all. It was an interesting idea and one he was toying with still. He was drifting, and he knew it, he never did well without a purpose or goal. He'd had a goal at first, learning to access the internet and getting his implant to adapt to it, ensuring he had an identity here, a home, money…now? He frowned as he stared at the street, well for right now his goal would be protecting that girl from the thugs following her.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Jupiter walked quickly, while trying not to look like she wanted to run. This was all Vladie's fault. He was the one with debts but now…the guys he played with had seen her and decided to get the money from her, not that she had any. She wished it wasn't so late, that there were others on the street…anything. And then gentle hands gripped her shoulders and she was pulled into a hug.

"Play along," an accented voice whispered in her ear and her eyes widened in shock. "I was starting to think you weren't coming tonight," he said at a normal volume. "Dinner's ready," he stepped back and offered a hand and Jupiter stared into stunning green eyes, unsure. He could be a Good Samaritan…or she could be better off with Vladie's poker buddies. He smiled softly, and Jupiter took his hand, letting him guide her up the stairs and into the townhouse where he quickly bolted the door and the peered out onto the street through the curtains. "Damn it, they're hanging around." He moved away and motioned her into another room where Jupiter found a comfortable lounge room. "Are you hurt?"

"No…"

"It's alright, I won't hurt you. Harry Potter," he offered his hand and she shook it.

"Jupiter Jones."

"So, what did you do to annoy the Russian Mob, Miss Jones?" he asked teasingly, and she scowled.

"Nothing," she muttered what she was going to do to Vladie in Russian and he laughed.

"I feel sorry for him, though not too much since he nearly got you hurt. Phone's on the table, you better call a taxi or the police."

"Thanks," she went to move past him and he backed off, sensing her unease. She picked up the phone and quickly dialled home, she couldn't afford a taxi. She spoke quickly with her uncle then hung up and glanced around for her host, finding him in the kitchen. "Guess you were telling the truth out there about dinner," she offered awkwardly, and he chuckled.

"First thing that popped into my head honestly," he shrugged. "Want some?"

"I already ate. You, ah…. live here alone?" she winced but he just laughed and shook his head.

"Other than Padfoot, don't worry he doesn't scratch."

"Wha…" and the she felt something land on her shoulder and turned her head to find herself staring at a black cat. "Oh," she slowly lifted her hand to pet him and the cat began to purr, pressing into her touch.

"He likes pouncing visitors, sorry. Hope you're not allergic," Harry finished off the soup and put the bowl in the sink.

"I'm not," she assured him, smiling at the cat. "Padfoot?"

"My Godfather's dog, he died when I was fifteen and the name seemed appropriate," Harry led her back to the living room.

"I'm sorry."

Harry just shrugged, "He was a good dog, but he had a hard life." he moved around, going back to the chores he'd been putting off in his reminiscing.

"Do you have a cleaner?" Jupiter asked as she watched him.

"No, I've been meaning to look into it, this place is a bit big to handle by myself," harry admitted, there was no shame in it.

"My uncle runs a cleaning business," Jupiter pointed out and Harry turned to face her.

"Really?"

"Yes, we clean a house next street over, that's where I was coming from, I stayed back to help with some extra things."

Well that was convenient. Harry thought it over, he could clean with magic, but he didn't like to. She had called family, not the police and obviously didn't want them involved…a lot of cleaners were illegals. That didn't make them bad people, but it did make life hard for them. And something…maybe it was his saving people thing, maybe something else. "Alright, let's see what can be arranged. Who do I need to speak with?"

"My Uncle runs it," she looked out the window and grinned. "That's his van." She waved from the window and Vassily moved up the stairs. Harry went and unlocked the door for him.

"Jupiter, are you alright?"

"I'm fine Uncle, just spooked," she smiled, and he nodded.

"Good, good. Thank you for saving her," he offered his hand to Harry who shook it.

"No problem. Jupiter tells me you're the person to talk to about house cleaning," Harry showed him into the living room and when they left an hour later it had been arranged that they would clean Harry's place before the Marks the next street over.

 _TBC…_

 _Bit of a filler chap letting them meet._


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: not mine_

 **Chapter 3**

Jupiter sighed and leant back, flushing the toilet. She got her things and went to help her Mom with the kitchen. She actually didn't mind cleaning the Potter house, there was never a lot of work to do and the house was full of interesting knickknacks. They looked up as the door opened and Mr Potter walked in.

"Sorry, just forgot something, don't mind me," Harry called, walking into his office to grab the file of paperwork. He shoved it into his messenger bag and then went to the kitchen.

"Mr Potter," Aleska greeted and he smiled.

"Hi. Is everything okay? You don't need anything?" he asked as he grabbed an apple.

"We are fine Mr Potter, you keep a good house."

"Thanks. Might get messier soon, I hear students are messy," he grinned.

"You're starting class?" Jupiter asked in surprise and Harry nodded, patting his bag.

"Yep, enrolling today at the University of Illinois for Electrical and Computer Engineering."

"Congratulations, this is good news, yes?" Aleska asked and Harry nodded.

"Yeah, it'll be different. I went straight into the Air Force after high school, get the feeling essays will be very different to flying."

"Definitely," Jupiter agreed, feeling a little jealous.

Harry shrugged and pulled out his wallet, pulling out some bills. "This weeks cleaning plus a little extra. Go have some fun." He handed it over and left before Aleska could protest.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

University was interesting and hard. He'd never done high school after all, everything he knew he had learnt in a hands-on environment in the wars, not from books or lectures. But he wanted to learn the technology of this world and then find a way to bring in some of what his world had, make things easier for people.

He'd done a lot of digging since arriving in this world, there was no hint of magic or anything 'supernatural' but when he looked at the history of the world something didn't add up. Something or someone was definitely interfering in events, he just didn't know who or what. The interesting thing was that there were a lot more alien stories around, blurry pictures… it wasn't like aliens existed… did they? It made a crazy kind of sense but was it even possible? If it was true, Earth was at a massive disadvantage if they were unfriendly. And he was probably jumping at shadows. But it was another reason to bring in the hybrid tech from his own world.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Jupiter skimmed over the book spines as she cleaned, Harry had an incredible library covering an amazing array of subjects. It was sad, but she didn't read much anymore, not since she'd left high school. She missed it, missed the thrill of learning something new. She'd harboured dreams of university once, until she learnt how much it cost, even with a scholarship, and she couldn't take that kind of scrutiny anyway, not with the paid for documents Uncle Vassily had procured so she could at least attend school.

Her Grandfather had been a British diplomat, she didn't understand why her Mother hadn't tried to contact that side of the family for help rather than come to America. Something must have happened, maybe they'd opposed the marriage? After all her parents hadn't been living in luxury when most diplomats appeared very well off. If she had any idea how to find them she'd considered trying to contact them herself, if her grandparents were even still alive.

"You can borrow one if you want," Harry offered, and she jumped, not having noticed his entrance. "Sorry."

"You mean it?" She asked, and he nodded, waving at the shelves.

"Go ahead, I am a firm believer in everyone having the chance to further their education." He dropped into the chair behind the desk and turned on his computer. "Three weeks in and already I have a massive paper due, almost makes me reconsider university."

"I miss school," she admitted as she carefully removed a book on astronomy.

"Didn't get into university?"

"Ah..."

"Illegal?" he asked, and she squirmed. "I'm not going to tell. You're accents pure American though."

Jupiter hesitated and then shrugged. "I was born in international waters to a Russian Mathematician and a British Astronomer."

"Complicated," he agreed. "Surely one of the embassies could have done something?"

"Not when my Mother's here illegally too." She finished the light dusting in the library/office.

"Good point, not fair on you though."

"Life isn't fair," she smiled sadly and picked up the book. "Thanks."

"No problem," he watched her go, feeling sad for her. He got to work on his paper while setting his implant to do a search on the immigration and citizenship laws of the three countries involved.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Harry walked into the British Embassy after showing his passport, going up to the desk and then taking a seat in the waiting area. After a few minutes his name was called, and he was led through embassy and into the office of the Ambassador himself. They shook hands and then sat. "How can I help you Mr Potter?"

"Hypothetically, what could be done to help the child of a British Citizen, in fact the granddaughter of a diplomat, who was born after her Father's death in international waters to a Russian Mother?" he asked, and the Ambassador blinked, thinking that over.

"Ah, that would be rather complicated," he admitted, looking to his computer. "I don't suppose the British Father has a name?"

"Maximillian Jones," Harry answered, and the Ambassador typed the name in.

"Alright, here we are, killed in Russia twenty years ago. Married to Aleska Bolotnikov, teacher of Applied Mathematics at the university in St Petersburg. Are you saying they had a child?"

"Hypothetically."

"Sir Martin Jones and his wife Martha died eighteen years ago, Maximillian was their only child. It was a non-hereditary Knighthood. There are some distant cousins left, all working for the government. And… a trust fund from Sir Martin that is locked. It will take a lawyer to unlock that or see who the beneficiary is. It's possible that this hypothetical child is the beneficiary. I am assuming this child is in something of a black hole when it comes to citizenship with those hypothetical events." He looked to his guest who nodded. "I would need to look into things properly, obviously the various laws and precedents will need to be looked at."

"Understandable." Harry handed over a card.

"I will call you once I know," he agreed, and they shook before Harry left.

Money talked, and Harry had a lot of it, in fact it was ever growing thanks to various investments. That was how he had gotten in to see the Ambassador himself and so quickly. If it came down to it, he was very willing to give a 'donation' to help get Jupiter papers. She was a good kid and deserved a shot at the 'American dream', she was wasted on cleaning people's houses. He knew the cities were full of illegals and he couldn't help most of them, but he could help her.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Harry closed his laptop and relaxed, done! He was definitely looking forward to the break. The classes were very interesting and often challenging and he enjoyed them. It was just that sometimes he hated papers. It had been three weeks since his meeting with the Ambassador, but he knew such things could take time. He hadn't said anything to her, he didn't want to get her hopes up. If this failed he could just create papers for her like he had done for himself when he had arrived, he was just trying to do things legally this time.

 _TBC…_


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: not mine_

 **Chapter 4**

Harry walked into Ambassador Blake's office, shaking hands with the older man. They sat down, and Blake leant back in his chair. "You set me quite the challenge Mr Potter, but an enjoyable one."

"I'm assuming you have results."

"Indeed. The trust fund is for any child of Maximillian Jones and comes to a total of ten million pounds."

That was a shock, he had thought a couple of hundred thousand but millions? "I see…"

"That leaves the legal mess of citizenship. Normally she would be either a British or Russian citizen, even have dual citizenship. If the ship had been in a country's waters, then she may be a citizen of that country, depending on the country's own laws. However, as she was born in international waters to a Russian mother, she should have been registered as a Russian citizen. I can find no birth record let alone citizenship papers. I have spoken with my government and we will issue the child a birth certificate and help with an application to the US government for the right to live and work here."

"That is more than I had hoped for," Harry admitted.

"All I need is a name and birthdate."

Harry handed over the piece of paper he'd written that on. Getting her birthday had been easier than her full name, Jupiter Maxine Jones.

Blake entered the information and sent it off to be processed. "The completed paperwork will be couriered over via diplomatic pouch. It shouldn't take more than a week."

"Thank you very much," Harry stood, and they shook hands again before he left, money really did make life easier.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Harry watched as a man in a suit got out and approached the Bolotnikov house, carrying a briefcase. He could have delivered it himself, the Ambassador had offered, but instead he had asked for his name not to mentioned at all. He didn't want the family thinking they were indebted to him. He just hoped Jupiter didn't hand it all over to her uncle, that man was a good business operator, but a little too focused on money.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Jupiter sat on her bed in the basement, still in complete shock. She had dreamt of something like this but never believed it was possible. Ten million pounds…over thirteen million American dollars and it was all hers. She wished she could have known her grandparents, her mom never mentioned them, she didn't think she'd ever met them either. How different would her life had been if they'd been if they had been alive when her Dad died, would her Mom have gone to England instead of America? She'd seen the look on cousin Vassily's face when the money was mentioned, she knew he was envisioning the family business using it but…it was hers, not his. He'd taken them in, sheltered them, given her Mom and Aunt work…but she'd been forced into it, she had never wanted to work for him.

Her thoughts turned to Harry Potter and she smiled, she knew someone who might be able to advise her. he was young and rich and had just started at university. He was the only one who might be able to help her, and she thought they were sort of friends, as much as employer and employee could be. She grabbed her bag and phone and snuck out a back window, heading for the bus, not wanting to deal with the family at the moment.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Harry opened the door when the doorbell rang and smiled when he saw Jupiter standing nervously in doorway. "Hey, everything okay?" he let her in and she fidgeted. "Jupiter?"

"I uh…could use some advice?"

"Okay, come on," he led her into the living room and took a seat. "Is something wrong?"

"I uh, got a visit yesterday, from the British Embassy. Turns out my grandparents were important, and they left a trust fund."

"Ah, congratulations," he smiled, and she stared at him before frowning.

"Did you…"

"I may have had some business at the embassy and may have run a hypothetical past the ambassador. He ran with it from there, I had no idea there was a trust fund involved."

"Thank you," she whispered. "Why?"

"Because I like helping people and you deserve better than a life of cleaning toilets," he admitted. "There's no strings to this, no debt. It was the right thing to do."

She surprised both of them by hugging him. "Thank you."

"Now, what advice did you need?"

"What do I do with money?" she asked, looking lost and he chuckled.

"This will take time, coffee?"

"Thank you."

Within a month the money was being handled by a reputable financial advisor so that it would continue to grow while allowing her to live quite comfortably, including attending university. She'd given some to her family, allowing them to move into a larger house and ensure her cousins wouldn't be forced to join the cleaning business, unless they wanted to. Her Mom and Aunt Nino she bought a small apartment for and then sent them on vacation before buying an apartment for herself close to campus. Thanks to the Ambassador and Harry's sneaky help she soon had legal papers to attend university and work in America. She would start at the beginning of the next session, studying astronomy.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Jupiter groaned from where she lay on the mat, that had hurt.

"Had enough?" he teased, and she forced herself up, rolling to her feet. She fixed her ponytail and assumed a defensive stance. "Good," Harry praised and then attacked again. When she'd mentioned wanting to learn to defend herself he had offered to train her, and she had accepted. After almost a year at university Jupiter was a lot happier even if she had no close friends, just study mates really.

"You like putting me on my ass," she complained, and he laughed.

"Best way to learn."

When they finished they split up to shower, Harry in his room and Jupiter using a guestroom. They then made lunch and ate together while working on homework before he gave her a lift to campus and they split up for classes.

Jupiter knew why people thought they were together and honestly? She wouldn't mind dating Harry, she knew he wasn't after her trust fund after all. Harry was fun to be around, easy to talk to but….he held something back, she just didn't know what, yet. For now, they were friends and she was very happy with that. He'd done so much for her, for her family even if they didn't know it, and he'd done it with no agenda, that made him rare.

 _TBC…._


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: Not mine_

 **Chapter 5**

Jupiter smiled as she picked up a photo frame, the picture had been taken almost two years ago, back when they were still at University. They were standing in a park, Harry's arms around her waist as she tipped her head back to look up at him. She didn't remember who'd taken it, but it was a good memory. She wrapped it in paper and put it in the box before sealing it and writing on the side so the movers would know where to put it once at her new apartment. Sometimes she wondered what it would be like if they were still dating, would they be engaged by now? Married? They loved each other, there was no doubt of that, but it wasn't the love you based a marriage on. The sex had been incredible but really, that was all that had stopped when they'd decided to break it off. They were still the best of friends, almost like siblings, so she was happy that dating hadn't ruined things between them.

She shook her thoughts off and got back to packing her small apartment. She had a tenant moving in soon, a student at the university. It was a good way to get continuing income, not that she needed it with how her inheritance continued to grow. She'd bought a bigger apartment closer to her brand new job at the Adler Planetarium. She was exited but also nervous, she hadn't worked anywhere except her Uncle's cleaning company. Harry had bemoaned not being able to hire her, but his new company didn't deal in Astronomy. Harry had taken his completed degree and started up a tech company last year and so far, it was doing very well. Magic definitely helped.

Hadn't that been a shock? Her ex-boyfriend and best friend was a dimensionally displaced Wizard and soldier. It hadn't changed anything between them, magic didn't make him any different, he was still just Harry. She just wished she could go back and give him a happier life.

Jupiter grinned as the last box was taped up before absently rubbing the skin behind her right ear, she couldn't feel a thing but hidden under the skin was an implant, just like Harry's. He'd embedded it last week and she was still getting used to the extra input, such as the text message that had just appeared before her eyes, it was from the moving company and they were downstairs. Soon they had swarmed her apartment, taking the boxes swiftly down to the truck for the drive across town. After a last look around she closed up and left.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Harry sighed as he stared at the man currently unconscious in his office. His HUD was lit up with information on the man…who wasn't fully human. He wasn't sure what he was really, though it was hidden well. Harry had found him trying to sabotage some of the medical research that was working on a cure for AIDS and had decided to find out why but with this data he wasn't sure if he should risk dosing him with Veritaserum or not. He didn't want to accidentally kill him after all.

After some further scans he finally woke the man and forced the potion down his throat, never dreaming what he'd learn. Aliens…except not really. A human empire so vast it was almost impossible to imagine, with the Earth as nothing more than a farm. There was no way he was going to let that stand and he would die before allowing anyone to kill the entire population. This made his company even more necessary and important but also painted a massive target not only on him but his employees. He wiped the splices memories of ever meeting him and sent him on his way with a compulsion to disappear.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Harry slipped invisibly through the rows of corn until a dilapidated farm house came into view. There were beehives everywhere, in fact they seemed to be what was keeping the house standing. It didn't seem the place where one would find advanced tech, but he'd seen way worse covers, especially in the magical world. He peered inside to see a young woman at a table, working on some sort of paperwork, just not on paper. Whatever it was, it was beyond a tablet or iPad. The girl looked up as some bees flew around her head and smiled and Harry blinked as he caught sight of her eyes, so she wasn't human, at least not fully. She was pretty and looked the part of a farm girl except for the tech she was using. An older man walked in and it was obvious they were father and daughter. He smiled and said something to her and she laughed before coughing, causing the man to frown but she waved him off. Harry watched a while before leaving, it seemed to him that they had settled on earth to simply live but the man was apparently an Aegis Marshall, here to make sure everything stayed legal. He'd looked into their business and found they sold very nice honey and also removed hives from people's places when they asked. Not what he expected from a space cop, but he did need to live while here.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Jupiter laughed happily as Harry hit the mat, hard.

He blinked and then laughed and rolled back to his feet. "Nice move," he praised, subtly rubbing his tailbone.

"It's only taken five years but I finally I beat you!" She grinned, breathing hard.

"You've gotten close more and more often over the years," he assured her, going to grab a towel and toss her water bottle to her. "Plans for Christmas?"

"Just family and yes, you're invited as normal." She took a drink and then moved off the mats to clean up before collapsing on the couch while Harry cooked. She'd never moved in, even when they'd been together, but she still felt comfortable and at home in the townhouse. Although, her apartment was finally starting to feel like a home too.

"Remember how I said there's no magic here?" Harry asked as they ate, and she nodded. "Well I found something interesting a while back."

"Oh?"

"Aliens," he smirked, and she froze, fork half way to her mouth.

She lowered her fork, staring at him. "Excuse me?"

"Well, technically they're human just from outer space," Harry shrugged, and she grabbed her wine, downing it.

"Okay…start at the beginning," she demanded.

Harry laughed but began telling her everything that had made him suspicious over the years, ending with the splice he'd interrogated and then the bee farm.

"That's…I don't…" she shook her head, shocked and appalled by what she'd heard.

"I know. And if I have any say in it, Earth will never suffer a Harvest. I've warded the company buildings to keep them safe, plus employees' homes…we won't stop trying to push humanity forward. We'll at least have a fighting chance when I'm done."

"Unless an assassin gets lucky," she muttered, and he sighed but nodded.

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Jupiter looked at the sign-up sheet and hesitated before adding her name and then headed for her work desk. She hated needles, but it was for a good cause. She put it out of her mind for the next week until she turned up to find the Red Cross set up and waiting. Jupiter sat on the chair and watched as the machine was readied before the young man held out the needle.

"If you're squeamish you might want to look away," he offered sympathetically.

"I'm fine, let's get this done."

"Brave girl." He grinned and slipped the needle into the vein. "Okay so just stay still and enjoy the movie. Cookies and juice once you're done." He patted her shoulder and moved on to the next person waiting to donate. She watched the short cartoon, ignoring the strange feeling of her blood being removed. Once the bag was full the needle was removed, and the wound covered before she was moved to a seat at the table to eat and drink. The blood was labelled and stored for shipping to the blood bank to wait until it was needed. Once she felt fine it was back to work and at the end of the day the donation stands were packed up.

The blood was sent to the lab for testing to ensure it was usable and no one noticed when the details were scanned an extra time, but no record made of the scans even as somewhere an alert began to sound.

 _TBC…_


End file.
